Turning Circles
by squerrilla
Summary: Obi-Wan takes a trip to escape from everything, including the one thing that he wants most of all. Obi-Wan/Anakin. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

_The winds sweeps ruthlessly across the dusty plains, biting your cheeks until they're numb and forming your hair into a matted, sandy mess. By nightfall you will be exhausted, hungry, and longing for the luxury of hot running water. But, for once, you couldn't be happier. For the next few hours, the thrum of the machine beneath you will take everything away. Nothing will matter but living in each moment, wrapped up in the landscape, tasting it, breathing it, feeling it vibrate through the artfully crafted machinery that connects you to it. _

_You love this experience, everything single thing about it. The freedom, the power, even the speed. Not the ridiculous speeds of space flight, but human speeds, speeds at which the distant mountains scroll past steadily, as if presenting themselves for your enjoyment, whilst the ground, firm and solid beneath your wheels flashes past in a satisfying blur. __  
_

* * *

Oil-blackened hands pull at dirty green tarpaulin, the seductive slide of the material revealing the gleam of metal and the inviting curve of well-worn leather. The shop owner looks up, and Obi-Wan can't help the man's toothy grin with one of his own. There is a silent understanding between the two of them, even though they barely exchange more than few words each year. Spoken conversation, precluded anyway by the barrier of language, is not necessary; a nod and a smile are all that are needed to convey mutual appreciation for the beauty of an object many would consider antiquated and obsolete.

Later, as night falls over the foothills of the black mountains, Obi-Wan sits by the dying embers of a campfire, watching the sky fade from smoky violet to deep cobalt. In the distance a thin strip of grey delineates the horizon, catching the light reflected from the planet's single bright moon. Tomorrow's route will take him to the edge of that ocean, where salt will sting his nostrils as he rides the sandy road that every year seems closer to being eaten up by the water.

It was one of the reasons he first came back here, that ocean. He found a solace riding at its edge, a balm to soften the shards of grief endless sessions of meditation would not remove. He had told himself, back then, that it was the Force he recognised within the seemingly endless mass of water. It was true, to a certain extent. The ocean, like the Force, was powerful, mysterious, and neither threatening nor benevolent, just... present.

But the real reason was nothing so esoteric. It was simply the colour of the water that soothed him, a particular blend of shifting grey and blue that matched exactly a gaze whose absence he felt with physical pain.

* * *

Pink-cheeked children crowd around him, giggling behind their hands. It's impossible not to laugh with them. They always want to touch him, tug his beard, slide grubby fingers over the curve of his mysterious metal steed. Digging into his bag, Obi-Wan finds dried algae biscuits but his attempts to eat some with exaggerated enjoyment simply elicit more laughter from the small mob. Then, right at the bottom of his ration pack, his fingers settle on something else, and he pulls out a squashed bar of Anakin's favourite candy, not remembering having put it there in the first place. Soon he has a small-scale riot on his hands.

As is usually the case, the small group of children break up and disappear into the scrub land as quickly as they arrived. All save one. This one, an impish-looking girl of about six with a mass of black curly hair and chocolate eyes, takes his hand and insistently pulls him in the direction of group of small cone-shaped huts. With only a single backward glance to check his belongings are secure, Obi-Wan lets himself be led along. Inside the hut the girl's family welcome him with smiles and gestures and endless cups of impossibly spicy tea.

Later, as he walks back slowly in the fading light to pitch his tent and cook his supper, high on the simplest of experiences, he finds himself wishing there was more time in the life of a Jedi to be with people like this, more opportunities to share small fragments of ordinary lives in the absence of war or danger. And he finds himself thinking, for the fifteenth blasted time that day, how much Anakin would enjoy this.

But Anakin is not here; Obi-Wan makes these trips alone. Anakin doesn't even know where Obi-Wan is, or what he is doing. Obi-Wan has never told him, and Anakin no longer asks.

In the early years coming here had been a welcome escape from the sheer relentlessness of training a boy who stretched Obi-Wan's abilities, together with his patience, every single day. Then war intervened, and shore leave became a dispensable luxury. As months of conflict stretched into years, memories of these trips became distant dreams, hazy and faded compared to a grim reality of blaster fire, horror and death. But now the war is over. They won. The Republic won. Suddenly there is time and space to rest, to relax and to think. Obi-Wan is not sure whether he likes that freedom. Much as he disliked war, fighting it was reassuringly all-consuming, narrowing one's focus to the task in hand. It is easy to uphold the Jedi principle of altruism when every grain of energy, every moment of concentration is needed in the struggle to defeat the enemy, save populations of entire star systems or merely survive until the next day. There is no time to consider your own wants. Your own needs. Your own desires.

The weeks following the signing of the peace treaty had been difficult for Obi-Wan. It was not so easy to settle back into the day to day life of the Temple, yet everyone seemed to expect him to do just that. Only Anakin could really understand, and therein lay an even bigger problem. But the Council had obviously noticed Obi-Wan's difficulties, because they had practically ordered him to take some time off, away from Coruscant. And even as he was protested that it was not necessary, he knew there was only one place he wanted to visit.

So Obi-Wan finds himself here, on this distant planet where very little seems to have changed. And as he watches the stars blink into existence in the darkening sky, the silence emptiness of the night allows no escape from the admission that everything has come full circle.

Because ten years later, here he is, trying to escape from Anakin, all over again.

* * *

On the last morning, Obi-Wan rises early, in time to see the first blond streaks of sunlight warm the pale blue sky. He repacks his bag, carefully arranging the contents so that the brown-wrapped parcel containing the physical vestiges of his normal life is near the top for easy retrieval later. All too soon this small escape will be over, and he will swap battered leather jacket and trousers for tunics and robe, and give himself back to everything that makes him more than simply Obi-Wan. He is – always will be – Jedi. But the rank, the status, Master, General, Council member, are in fact something he has never sought.

But then, Obi-Wan has very rarely sought anything.

Perhaps that's because the only things he's every really wanted are things he apparently cannot have.

He slings a leg over the saddle of the bike, smiling in satisfaction as the engine responds loudly to the twist of his gloved hand. Sun warm on his back, he settles into the ride, and as the miles of smooth dirt road glide steadily beneath his wheels his thoughts drift over the route back to the ramshackle town that constitutes the start and end point of his journey. In the past he has always taken the ocean road, skirting as close as he can to the white froth of breaking waves. Now, almost on a whim, he decides to try something different.

When he reaches the point where the road forks, he stops for a moment of two to gaze out over the ocean. Then, after murmuring a farewell, he turns away from it, towards the desert.

* * *

The dunes rise like small mountains at either side of the road, and Obi-Wan has to concentrate on his balance, ready at any moment to adjust his weight at the first sink of his wheels into a soft patch. It's intimidating, but there's a great satisfaction in the challenge, and a sense of accomplishment when his wheels eventually find the beginnings of the old paved road that will lead him out of the wilderness.

He sits back in the saddle and enjoys the beauty of the last stretch of the ride through the desert: the strong shadows cast by the soft, sculpted dunes, the ridges of red and pink rock amongst yellow, even the bleached-white bones of animals lying like driftwood on the sand. The wind has blown here across the heat of the plains and the air is warm on his face, drying his lips.

Eventually, up ahead, a familiar splash of greenery rises from the orange horizon and upon reaching it, he stops under the shade of a skinny tree and takes the opportunity to fill his canteen from the small stone well that mines the precious water supply. He rubs the sand off his face with the back of his hand, feeling the scratch on his skin.

_I hate sand, Master. It gets everywhere…  
_  
_Damn fool Kenobi_, he mutters under his breath as he takes a swig of the gloriously cool water. He is well aware that, when he had mentioned he would be going away again, Anakin was waiting, this time, to be invited. When Anakin was a teenager he used to openly tease Obi-Wan about these trips, trying to goad him into revealing where he was going. But war has changed both of them. His former Padawan may still call him Master but they are no longer teacher and learner; Anakin has long surpassed Obi-Wan's abilities, and proved himself again and again. Obi-Wan may be sixteen years older than Anakin but they have become men together, and they are equals, now, in every way. And although Anakin knows exactly how to aggravate, annoy, exasperate and irritate Obi-Wan, if he so chooses, its not so much a battle of wills any more, but an affectionate antagonism, now, well-worn and reassuring. Obi-Wan wouldn't have it any other way.

So when he called at Anakin's quarters to say goodbye, Obi-Wan had not failed to notice the tiny twinge of incomprehension and rejection on Anakin's face, had hated the emptiness of the Force that concealed Anakin's disappointment. Obi-Wan would have preferred it if Anakin had just pestered him about it, because then it wouldn't be so obvious how much it meant.

Obi-Wan wonders what it would have felt like to just tell him, right then. To just say those words.

But, of course, he hadn't. Because even though, romantic old fool that he is, they might beat in his heart every day, those particular words don't fit very easily between _Don't think you can come in here and eat through my groceries just because I'm away_ and _Try not to wind up Master Windu any more than is strictly necessary._

It would be easier to say those words to a complete stranger than his closest friend. But Obi-Wan doesn't love a complete stranger. Isn't _in love_ with a complete stranger. And even if there was a chance Anakin might love him back, it wouldn't matter. Obi-Wan simply cannot say those words. It is forbidden. He is not allowed to feel that way.

Is too afraid to feel that way, again.

And so Obi-Wan keeps his secret, hidden under layers of mock-disapproval, stoicism and conformity. Every time Anakin sprawls against him, long-limbed and sleepy, and so damn physically _needy_, Obi-Wan pats his shoulder stiffly, and frowns. Every time Anakin comes to Obi-Wan's quarters late at night, half-drunk on cheap wine and lamenting the sorrow of his latest disastrous romantic entanglement, Obi-Wan evades his predatory gaze, murmurs weakly that the Code is there for a reason, and ducks the lips that try to stumble onto his.

The sun is still blazing high in the sky as Obi-Wan rides the final sweeping curve of road towards the town, measuring the remainder of his time here in every turn of his wheels, counts down the minutes before he has to return to a life where every day, he has to lie. Later, as the blue planet shrinks below his starfighter, and the stars stretch his path into hyperspace, Obi-Wan lets himself consider, for just a brief moment, the possibility of bringing Anakin here, next year.

Then he quickly squashes the sentimental thought, and tries to banish it from his mind. There is no way he could risk it, just the two of them, away from their responsibilities, away from the Council, away from the Code. He wonders if he could concoct some miserable half-truth that would both satisfy Anakin and put him off, a field trip to collect botanical samples on Bepsin, for example, or vacation to commune with the natives of Hoth. Yes, that might work.

It will have to work, because he could never bring Anakin here.

He just couldn't.

_Could he?_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for your comments everyone! Since doesn't seem to want to let me reply, I'll do it here.

Lincoln Six Echo: thanks for the positive feedback and it's a good point you make there. I have made a small change to the first chapter in response. I hope this second chapter makes a little clearer why (in this AU at least) I think Obi-Wan wouldn't seriously try to reprimand Anakin about romantic entanglements, other than perhaps being relieved that it isn't really his job any more and Anakin wouldn't listen to him anyway, heehee.

Pronker: thanks! I like to think Obi-Wan is sometimes so straight-laced and serious even the other Council members would be shaking their heads and plotting how they could convince him to have some fun :)

And everyone else: thanks for the comments! Glad you liked it. Here is the second and final part...

* * *

_One year later_

* * *

"This is no speeder, no racing pod, no crude jumble of power couplings and hastily welded spare parts. This is a piece of art. And you must treat it as such. A gentle, but confident touch. Too much power, and you will be on your backside in the dirt before you know it. Too little – well I expect that will not be a…" Obi-Wan's voice trails off as he realises this is starting to sound like a lecture.

But for once, Anakin doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it looks like he's not even listening. He finishes running a hand along the sleek body of the bike in front of him and looks up. His grin says it all.

"I can't believe, all these years, and you never told me!" Anakin's teeth are absurdly white against his dirt-smudged face, his eyes as blue as the sky.

"You're enjoying it then?" Obi-Wan matches the infectious smile, ignoring the voice in his head that is telling him he's playing a very dangerous game.

Anakin parks his bike and dismounts, stretching an arm up to rub the nape of his neck. "Well apart from the fact that my bike is obviously underpowered next to yours-" he frowns only half-seriously as he glances from Obi-Wan's bike to his own, slimmer one, then looks up with a smile- "Yes. It's exhausting. And wonderful. And I'm starving!"

Obi-Wan laughs and pats his back. "One step at a time, Padawan. Now, let's find some dinner. This town only has one place to eat though, I'm afraid, so we don't have much choice."

Anakin slings an arm casually around Obi-Wan's shoulders. "I don't care. I could eat fried womp-rat right now and be perfectly happy."

_Me too_, thinks Obi-Wan, as Anakin's fingers accidentally brush his neck. _Me too_.

* * *

On the second day, when Obi-Wan is satisfied Anakin can handle the bike without killing himself (which he can, of course, he's a natural, just as Obi-Wan knew he would be), they strike out into the countryside, speeding across the flat plains, enjoying the easy riding. When they stop for a brief lunch break, Obi-Wan says very little, a contemplative expression on his face as he eats in silence. Anakin smiles as he sits down by the other man's side, and follows his gaze into the distance.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it, you know."

"Quite." Obi-Wan replies curtly, lips curving upwards, wondering where Anakin's new-found modesty has come from. _Maybe it's the country air…_

They sit and eat in silence for a while, watching the clouds drift across the peaks of the distant mountains, listening to insistent cackles of the large black birds that circle above.

"You don't resent me for being here, do you?" Anakin says, eventually.

"Why ever would I? I invited you, didn't I?"

"I thought that might have been because you were so adamant I shouldn't accept the Chancellor's invitation." Anakin shrugs as takes the last bite of his food.

"No, I asked you because I thought you might enjoy it." _Because I want you here, too_.

"I never imagined you were doing this, you know."

"Oh really?"

"No, I thought you had a secret lover somewhere."

Obi-Wan coughs as a piece of bread gets stuck in his throat. Without blinking Anakin hands him the canteen of water.

"But you don't. Do you?" Anakin's eyes flick up to meet his and the piercing blue intensity of the look prevents any words arranging themselves coherently in Obi-Wan's mind. So he simply shakes his head and takes a drink, before standing and brushing crumbs from his clothes.

"We'd better get going." Obi-Wan avoids his companion's eyes, and walks to the bikes. "Still rather a lot of distance to cover today."

"Ah yes, I was meaning to talk to you about that." Anakin calls out after him, getting up to follow.

"Hmm, now why do have a bad feeling about this?" Obi-Wan mutters under his breath.

"I was just looking at the map, and I found an interesting road we could try, across the mountains."

Obi-Wan shakes his head as he fiddles with the straps attaching his gear to the bike. "No no, it's far too dangerous. I began along that road once. It's treacherous, narrow, winding, precipitous drops."

"Sounds exciting."

"Anakin you have only been riding a bike for two days. I've been doing it for years and I would only take that route if I had no other option. You can't possibly…"

"Oh come on Obi-Wan, I thought we were supposed to be here to have fun! Besides, I've only fallen off twice, and one of those was your fault."

Obi-Wan knows it is not necessary to say his idea of fun doesn't involve them risking both their necks on some wretched crumbling road; Anakin knows this all too well.

So he simply arches an eyebrow and looks away, swinging a leg over his bike and ignoring Anakin's crossed arms, knowing exactly the excitement that is dancing in those blue eyes. "Three times. And the answer's still no."

* * *

The narrow road winds sinuously up the rocky mountainside, crumbling in places and scattered with fallen rock in others. The two bikes crawl cautiously along, teetering around sharp bends as they wind their way up into misty clouds.

Progress is slow, and the sky is beginning to darken before they are within sight of the top. When the road widens for a brief stretch Obi-Wan pulls over and gets off his bike, frowning as Anakin glides to a stop behind him and cuts his engine.

"Running out of daylight. Think we'll struggle to make it down in the dark, too. I told you was a bad idea."

"Erm… why don't we just camp here, then?" Anakin asks, in that particularly irritating_ isn't –it-obvious-Master?_ tone.

"Well, apart from the poisonous snakes, I'd be all for it. In fact we probably don't have any choice." Obi-Wan pauses, frowning towards the dense, dark forest on their right. "So... better find a suitable place..."

Anakin's face falls as he watches the other man walk to the edge of the road and look out towards the grey line of the road winding across the mountainside ahead of them.

"Wh-what do you mean, poisonous snakes?"

"Not just poisonous, deadly. Kill you in seconds. Now where do you think? Looks like there's a clearing there, up ahead."

"Erm, yeah, okay." Anakin's hands clench and unclench nervously by his sides.

"Well come on then, or it will be dark before we get there," Obi-Wan says, as he walks back to the bikes, turning his face to hide the humour that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

* * *

Both men have slept beneath the stars many times. It is no longer much of a novelty when you have spent long nights outdoors on hostile planets, freezing in muddy trenches, hiding from the enemy and counting the men lost in this battle. Wondering how many you will lose in the next…

But here, Obi-Wan has to admit, the night sky is particularly beautiful. His eyes scan the dusty swirl of the galaxy's edge, lingering on the pristine pattern of star systems, uncluttered by the usual messy splutter of space traffic.

Behind him both tents are pitched, side by side. Both are empty. Obi-Wan sits on a blanket next to the fading heat of the camp fire, back propped against a tree stump. Anakin is asleep by his side, the young man's blond head somehow having managed to find a resting place tucked between Obi-Wan's hip and his chest.

Maybe it's the distraction of the stars, or maybe it's just physical exhaustion - they have after all, ridden a far more gruelling journey today than Obi-Wan would ever tackle alone- but before he even notices what he's doing, Obi-Wan finds his hand brushing over those blond curls, fingertips brushing Anakin's forehead, tracing path down his temple, along his lightly-stubbled jaw, then stroking back though the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It's a gesture that, right here and now, feels like the most natural thing in the world. And when Obi-Wan realises what he's doing, he doesn't snatch his hand away, but leaves it to rest there, on Anakin's head, just for a little while longer, allowing himself the brief fantasy that it could be like this, for more than just tonight.

* * *

Dawn on the mountain top is cold and damp, and shrouded in a blanket of fog. Obi-Wan puts a hand up to find dew on his face, and confirm the identity of the weight that is sprawled half across him and responsible for the fact that he can't feel the left side of his body.

He chuckles, and gives Anakin's shoulder a gentle shove. "Time to wake up, sleepy-head."

Anakin stirs a little, keeping his eyes closed and turning his face to smile against Obi-Wan's neck. "Mmm you're too comfortable, Master."

Obi-Wan swallows as Anakin's lips brush his skin, shivering a little as he feels the warmth of the other man's breath. He shoves a little harder. "Come on Anakin, you're squashing me."

Anakin groans and sits up reluctantly, frowning sleepily back down at Obi-Wan through the dishevelled hair that falls over his face. "Hmm. Cold here."

"Well it would have been better to sleep inside the tents, admittedly."

Anakin turns his head to look around the small clearing. "No snakes though, apparently, seeing as we're both still alive."

"Snakes? Oh yes… snakes." Obi-Wan is disarmed, both by the sensation of the blood returning to his squashed limbs, and the sight of Anakin looking down at him, like that. So he's just about powerless to stop the grin that breaks across his face.

"Master!"

Obi-Wan sits up slowly. "What?" Avoiding Anakin's indignant gaze he gets to his feet and starts to pack up their belongings. "How many times have I told you to read the archive records for a planet before we visit it? Look up the dangerous flora and fauna, so you are prepared. How many times have you actually done that?"

"This planet isn't in the archives, Obi-Wan."

"Ah, good point." Obi-Wan reaches for the two metal cups set beside the remnant of the camp fire. "Would you like some tea then? We have enough water."

"Don't change the subject."

"Look, I'll make it up to you, all right?"

A lazy smile spread across Anakin's face. "How?"

"However you want."

"Anything?" Anakin's eyes flick behind Obi-Wan's back.

"Except that."

"But you said anything."

"Stop pouting Anakin. You're not riding my bike." Obi-Wan pours water into a pan and sets it on the portable stove.

"But it must be at least fifty percent more powerful than mine. And it's more easily tunable too."

"No!"

"Hmm."

"Look. When we get down off this mountain, let's head back to the town, and go back to the shop and hire you another bike. They have several. I only picked that one because it's supposed to be easy to handle for _beginners,_" Obi-Wan says, making sure to clearly stress that last word.

Anakin narrows his eyes and leans back, propping himself up on his hands. "Okay. But don't think that means I've forgiven you. I'm going to have to pay you back, you know, new bike or not."

Obi-Wan just shakes his head as he pours steaming water into the cups, chuckling under his breath, suddenly finding himself happier than he's been for as long as he can remember.

* * *

The floor seems to tilt slightly under Obi-Wan's feet as he returns from the refresher, crossing main floor of the inn towards the bar. After a good twelve hours in the saddle, walking seems alien; it had taken a full day to get back down the mountain, and night had fallen by the time they reached the outskirts of the town. So they'd had no choice but to return to the inn where they had stayed on the first night.

After eating a dinner of unidentifiable stew followed by some sort of bland white pudding, a hesitant silence had fallen between them. Both men were physically exhausted, but it seemed neither wanted to give up on the day just yet. So they've been here, in the inn's bar, for over two hours. And the current unsteadiness of Obi-Wan's legs is not only due to a lack of familiarity with walking.

"Got you another," Anakin says, lifting a finger to indicate the glass of iced amber liquid set on the bar next to his own. "S'good stuff." He smiles as he picks up the glass and takes a careless slug.

Obi-Wan slips onto the bar stool, ever so slightly mesmerised by the way the liquid spills over Anakin's lips, glistening for a moment before Anakin's hand comes up to wipe it away. A momentary confusion registers on Anakin's face. Abruptly, Obi-Wan looks down, feeling a heat begin to blush his cheeks, swiftly downing half of his drink in one gulp.

Three drinks later, the day's exploits have been debated many times over, with increasing enthusiasm and decreasing coherence. Obi-Wan's head is fuzzy and happy and he knows full well that he's letting his guard down, but right now, he doesn't frankly care. Right now life is easy. Just him and Anakin. No war, no politics, no Council. _Just the open road and each day as it comes…_

"Hey," Anakin's voice interrupts his reverie, softer now and sleepy, and Obi-Wan's eyes focus on Anakin's face, propped up by his hand, watching with a hazy, half-amused expression, giving a little wave of his hand. "Hey. Thought you'd drifted off for a minute."

Obi-Wan knows that he should be shaking his head, and rubbing his eyes and frowning, and now he should be muttering something about an early start in the morning. But Anakin is there, all feline and sleepy and sexy as hell, and all Obi-Wan wants to do is smile back, and hold those eyes with his own, and put a hand up to brush a thumb against Anakin's cheek.

And so he does.

* * *

A long moment later finds Obi-Wan's hand still resting on Anakin's cheek, and the noise of the bar fading into the background as the galaxy shrinks down to just the two of them.

"You know, sometimes I really wish I knew what you were thinking," Anakin says quietly, his eyes locked on Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan's thumb makes a slight movement that could be interpreted as nothing other than a caress. "I'm thinking…" he starts, finding everything he wants and needs to say suddenly won't fit into words, especially with his already fuzzy thoughts distracted by the texture of Anakin's skin. "I'm thinking…" Reluctantly, he lets his hand fall down to his side. "…that I, for one, have had far too much to drink tonight. And so, I expect, have you."

But before he has chance to look away, before that familiar sense of hopelessness has chance to rise in his chest, Anakin's hand is clasping his, pulling him off his seat, in the direction of the door.

"Then lets go outside and clear our heads," Anakin says, not looking at him, voice still thick with alcohol but tinged with impatience.

The cold night air washes over them, and Obi-Wan finds it quickly brings sobriety, shortly followed by a whole sequence of unwelcome, all-too-familiar thoughts, doubts and worries. Anakin pulls him out into the middle of the deserted street and stops, spinning around so they are face to face, tip of booted foot to tip of booted foot, Anakin's ungloved hand still holding his, skin against skin.

"Better?" Anakin asks, looking down at him, with that same intense, possessive expression that suddenly realises is only ever directed at him.

Realisation dawns on Obi-Wan, and with it a secret joy, a leap of his heart. And yet still, his wretched brain does not allow him to feel it fully. He glances to the left of Anakin's face, towards the stars above their heads, seeing everything that normally separates them. Everything that is not here.

Obi-Wan feels like a river is trying to sweep him away, and he wants more than anything to let it take him.

"It… it's complicated…" he says, eyes flicking back to Anakin's, seeing not only intensity of feeling there, but determination._  
_

_And what Anakin Skywalker wants, Anakin Skywalker usually gets…_

"I…" Obi-Wan starts again, "We… can't… I… can't… The Order. Anakin, listen. I'm not like you. I can't break the Code one day and face the Council with a clear conscience the next. I… You must realise that much as I want y-"

But at that point Obi-Wan's words are cut off, because Anakin, apparently, has heard enough.

And Obi-Wan is having trouble thinking of anything much at all because all of a sudden Anakin's mouth is pressed again his, soft and yet firm, and now Anakin's hand is coming up to the back of his head, and holding him there, so that he can't escape, and Anakin's lips are parting to swallow his little yelp of surprise, flicking tongue against tongue enticingly before pulling back just far enough to grin against his cheek.

"No." Anakin's breath is unsteady between words. "Not complicated. Simple." His mouth moves to Obi-Wan's ear. "I love you. You love me. The Code is already broken, and you know it."

Then Anakin pulls away, so their eyes can meet again, and Obi-Wan sees a familiar defiance there, but beyond it sincerity, along with a depth of emotion he had never even dreamt of.

And Anakin is absolutely right. Obi-Wan has, in fact, broken the Code for most of his adult life. Attachment is forbidden. Falling in love is forbidden. Whether one acts on that love is irrelevant. And Obi-Wan has never needed the Code to tell him why he shouldn't love Anakin. He knows all too well the soul-splitting pain at the loss of someone he should never have loved. Knows how it feels to touch the dark side in a frenzy of grief. Knows how it feels to wake every day and relive the horror of what happened.

But Obi-Wan also knows the joy, and the happiness and the comfort, and... and all of this is irrelevant because he just can't help how he feels. It is not something that can be denied, or argued away with logic. It is simply part of being human. And being human is something Anakin, for all his power and bravado, is incredibly good at.

Along, apparently, with kissing.

So maybe it's finally time for Obi-Wan to give in, and be human, too.

"So..." Obi-Wan starts to say, throat suddenly dry and heart hammering in his chest, wanting nothing more than to push Anakin against the nearest wall, and taste that kiss again.

_And again, and again..._

But those soft, if infuriating, lips are curving up into a smile of victory. "So.." Anakin helpfully continues for him, his eyes starting to dance with a wicked humour. "Let's go to bed."

* * *

Dust shimmers in the yellow light, drifting lazily in the morning air of the hotel room. Anakin sits up slowly on the bed, swinging his legs over the side and glancing back to the figure sleeping beside him. He smiles at the sight of auburn locks spread on the pillow, hiding Obi-Wan's face, and the smooth skin of Obi-Wan's back, bare and lightly tanned against the white sheet that rests low across his hips.

As Anakin's feet touch the floor and he begins carefully to rise to his feet, he's stopped suddenly by a hand on his wrist that catches him off balance and pulls him back down, onto the bed.

"Not so fast," Obi-Wan growls sleepily, as Anakin lands half on top of him, only the thin layer of the sheet separating their bodies in places. Important places. "I want you again," Obi-Wan continues, "before we leave."

Anakin grins as Obi-Wan's hands pull him down for a kiss. As lips and tongues clash, hot and rough and dirty, Anakin can't help but be pleased with himself. It would seem that in a single night he's managed to do pretty damn good job of getting Obi-Wan to tell him _exactly _what he wants…

"But the bike…" Anakin gasps, breaking away for breath.

"We have three more days," Obi-Wan interrupts huskily, nudging him suddenly so he rolls off and to the side, Obi-Wan's hand yanking the sheet away and to the floor before pulling their bodies back into alignment. "Are you really saying you'd rather nghhhh…" The words falter and turn into a moan as Anakin shifts, pushing Obi-Wan's legs apart with his knees, grinding their groins together as his mouth finds Obi-Wan's neck, teeth grazing the skin that tastes of salt and sex.

"No, I'm-" Anakin murmurs, biting Obi-Wan's earlobe as two strong hands cup his ass, a finger then tracing down to tease right _there_…"ohhh…"

A hand leaves his buttock as Obi-Wan calls the small bottle of oil from the nightstand to his grasp. The older man chuckles. "Good. Turn over then."

But that sounds all too much like an order, and so of course Anakin ignores it completely, lifting himself away from Obi-Wan for a moment, pushing up with his hands so his face hovers above the other man's, groins pressed together even harder with the leverage but chests now separate.

Anakin smiles down lazily through half closed eyes, "Remember Master -" he rocks his hips to continue the delicious friction, pushing back against that oil-slickened finger, moaning as a second joins it. "You said _anything_?"

Obi-Wan's breathing is erratic and he closes his eyes for a long moment, finding it very difficult to focus on anything beyond the sensation of Anakin grinding into him, wondering what the hell Anakin is talking about…

Then Anakin dips his head down, licking a hot line along Obi-Wan's collar bone, damp curls tickling Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Poisonous snakes, remember?"

Obi-Wan swears and Anakin laughs, moving to sweep open lips against Obi-Wan's mouth, leisurely sliding his tongue inside, swirling it there and letting his weight relax down onto Obi-Wan's briefly before pulling back to separate their bodies, relishing the anguished groan that emerges from the other man's lips.

"Don't tease, Anakin…"

"Then give me what is mine," Anakin demands, lifting his hips up suddenly so Obi-Wan's hand falls away, pushing Obi-Wan's legs further apart bending them at the knees, grabbing the oil himself and pouring it liberally all over the part of Obi-Wan now exposed to him.

Anakin looks down at Obi-Wan, and bites his lip in concentration as he rub his own erection shamelessly at the other man's opening. "Please." Seeing a flash of uncertainty pass across Obi-Wan's face, Anakin reaches with the other hand to wrap oil-slickened fingers around Obi-Wan's hardened flesh, caressing him with firm, steady strokes.

Obi-Wan groans and half-closes his eyes at the sensations threatening to overwhelm him, lifting a trembling hand to Anakin's face, tracing a finger along a sweat-slicked cheek and across the full lips, wondering if there has ever been anything more beautiful than the sight of Anakin in this moment.

Obi-Wan knows that with this he will give Anakin all of himself. That this will be his surrender.

And for once, there is no need for hesitation, or protestation. He wants this, and every instinct he has is telling him this is right. So he just smiles, and pulls Anakin's weight back down on top of him, voice wavering in a single word of reply.

"Yes."

* * *

Dusk is falling as they pass over the last rise of terrain to see the cluster of white buildings in the distance. They stop one last time to stretch their legs. The time here is nearly over. As Anakin tinkers with his suspension, still unable to resist the need to customize every piece of engineering he lays his hands on, Obi-Wan smiles and walks a few steps to the top of a rocky outcrop, craning his neck towards the thin strip of ocean on his left.

The anger he had once felt has long gone, the pain now well-worn to a familiar sorrow. The happiness, the completeness, he feels here and now, with Anakin, brings a security he has never experienced before.

"Ready to go?" Anakin calls out, and Obi-Wan glances across to see the younger man already swinging a leg over his bike.

"Yes, you go on ahead," he replies, nodding the affirmative and walking back towards his own machine. Anakin grins and disappears with the growl of an engine and a thick cloud of dust.

Obi-Wan coughs and shakes his head jovially, placing a gloved palm on the seat of his bike to steady himself, knowing he'd better not take too long, or he'll never catch up.

As Obi-Wan straddles the bike, his thoughts turn to that morning, when he had woken with Anakin wrapped his arms eyelids fluttering open to be greeted by a clear blue sky.

Of course a moment later he began to worry about Coruscant, and everything they faced when they returned. But then Anakin had smiled sleepily up at him, and wondered aloud if they'd still be sleeping out under the stars here in thirty years time, when they were old and feeble and grumpy.

With that single question came an implicit assumption, that to Anakin, apparently, was obvious.

That they will both be here in thirty years' time, because what they have will last.

And that had given Obi-Wan the strength, for once, to let his worries drift away, up into the empty sky, where the songbirds swooped, singing a greeting to the new day.

And now, as Obi-Wan speeds down the hillside, chasing the figure that races ahead, a black silhouette against the setting sun, he smiles into the wind, looking forward to the future and everything it might bring.

Because whatever happens, Obi-Wan is certain that the two of them will survive, as they always have.

Together.


End file.
